


No Going Back

by FreshBrains



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Community: comment_fic, M/M, POV Negan (Walking Dead), Pre-Slash, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 10:44:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10489098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: The lord giveth, Negan thinks, grinning into the sun as he revs up to eighty on the highway.And he better not taketh this away.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the LJ Comment_fic prompt: _Rick Grimes/Negan, “i’m a runaway bride/groom and you’re driving my getaway car”_.

_The lord giveth_ , Negan thinks, grinning into the sun as he revs up to eighty on the highway. _And he better not taketh this away_. “Tell me, Loverboy, do you like Metallica?” He crams a tape into the dashboard cassette player.

The man next to him doesn’t say anything. He hasn’t said anything since he hopped into the passenger seat of Negan’s glossy black 1967 Chevy Impala, rice still falling out of his hair, his tux a crumpled mess, and gasped, “Get me out of here.”

“If you’re not gonna fill the silence with the undoubtedly dulcet tones of your voice,” Negan continues, “then we’re listening to “For Whom the Bell Tolls.” The tape finishes rewinding and he jams the play button with his thumb. “This was my wife’s favorite album. Hard rock chick, she was, and a real babe. Met her at an AC/DC concert over in Houston.” The zippers on his jacket jangle together when he draws his hand back and begins drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “I swear she would’ve gotten the old Baptist ladies to play “Highway to Hell” on the church organ at the funeral if her momma woulda permitted.”

Talking about Lucille feels good—it’s been too long to let the memories hurt him. Instead, he smiles, looking over at his new friend. The man shakes in his too-big suit, fists clenched at his sides. He’s not wearing a wedding band. “Hell, you ain’t older than twenty if a day,” Negan says. He wonders if this kid knocked a gal up and tried to do right by her before chickening out. It wouldn’t be unheard of. “I woulda ran, too.”

“I prefer country music,” the man yells over the beginning of the song, and Negan is so surprised that he _laughs_ , slapping the man on the thigh. He just stares out the window, gorgeous curly hair whipping in the wind.

“You got a name, handsome?”

There’s a long, guitar-filled pause. “Rick,” the man says, turning to face Negan, and good fucking _lord_ , he has the most stunning blue eyes this side of the Mason-Dixon. He’s got a little desperation in there, too, like a lost little puppy looking for a master. _Maybe he’s running from something more than a wife_ , Negan thinks, lips curling into a smile.

“Well, Rick,” he says, one arm resting on the edge of the window frame. “My name’s Negan. And I think we’re going to be good friends.”


End file.
